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1:08 p.m. - 2002-08-08
I'm so rude.
You know that feeling when you have been dissed in a verbal altercation, and hours later, perhaps even when you are laying in your bedding before drifting off to sleep, you realize the perfect comeback that would have left the offender reeling?

Well my fishing experience was a dream come true for that sort of thing. See, when I started I was way out of practice when it came to the oral fencing. I was a meek, nice, insecure version of myself that wanted to make people respect me by being respectful of them. This was not a good position to take among redneck fishermen. It was very similar to a prison mentality, where those who are considered weak will be turned into bitches lickety-split.

While the crew was skilled and incredibly tough, they were not the most brilliant or educated of folks, and they found amusement in others misery. I myself am not above this, though I like to pretend that the others misery should be free of physical pain and come from a clever, rather than lowbrow sort of quip.

They did not have the same high standards, and anything from fat jokes to the hurling of a stinging jellyfish was applauded in this world.

Well, it took me a few weeks of turning the other cheek, not reacting to their barbs, and waiting for them to get bored before I realized that fighting fire with fire is a good thing, every now and then. The one deck hand who loved to target me the most had the peculiar habit of repeating the same list of put downs every single day, and oddly the others seemed to find new joy in the broken record as well. It was the fisherman rerun, and it afforded me the opportunity to take my time and develop intricate and well-rehearsed responses.

So one night, when I had decided enough was enough, I waited patiently for the dufus to go through his routine. When he got to the inquiry about my lip ring, and whether I had my DICK pierced too, I told informed him that I used to but his mother kept swallowing it and she was getting tired of shitting on newspapers for a week after each of our dates.

This opened the floodgates, and soon I was ripping them new assholes respectively on an hourly basis. I drove one deck hand to quit, much to my delight as he snored like a fucking ogre, and not only kept the others at bay but kept myself amused and sane for the rest of the season.

Hooray for dummies. That was my motto.


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